Kriyat Shema

My classes are BACK! After the month long break as we journeyed our way through the High Holy Days (more on that in future posts; there's a lot to digest and process....), my rabbinical classes have resumed and I find myself immersed in, and ruminating over details in our holy texts that I'd never noticed before.

And when we all log in to the zoom, and are waiting for our teacher to arrive, the most popular question by far that I am asked by my fellow students (all USA based) is, "What time is it for you, Anna?" and when I tell them that it is, invariably, my evening (California is 8 hours behind us, East Coast is 5) they continue to be amazed that here we are in class together, at the beginning of the day for them, and my day has almost finished.

But what about when I join the weekly minyan (prayer gathering) at 11am for them, and 7pm for me? Do I recite Shacharit (morning prayers) to join my voice with theirs, or do I recite Ma'ariv (the evening prayers) which suit my local and personal situation?

Last night, our Halacha teacher, a formidably knowlegable and wise rabbi based in Boston (-5 hours), taught us from his mother's house in Israel (+2 hours) where he had arrived just a few hours before.

So I was trumped big time by my "it's 9.30pm for me!" by his ability to teach and inspire, despite the travel and despite the timezone.

And our topic? We were looking at the rabbinic discussions around the time to recite the Shema - the liturgy / prayer in our Torah that tells us to recite it 'when you lie down and when you rise up'. So, the rabbis ask, when is the window of time for 'lying down' (read: evening) and when is the window of time for 'rising up' (read: morning)?

And thus ensues a fascinating conversation, recorded in the Mishnah, and quoted and expounded on, and simplified, over the ages ever since, sometimes with incredibly pedantic detail (the evening begins when the priests have entered the Temple to perform the terumah sacrifice) and other times when it seems to relate to social concerns (when all have eaten - even if it's just bread and salt).

And when is evening over? Some argued it was midnight, for others it was until dawn.

When I woke up this morning at 5.30am (as is my daily practice) it was pitch black. I immediately wondered if the rabbis would have considered this still within the window of yesterday's evening, or if it was that liminal time between days - yesterday was certainly in the past, and today hadn't quite yet begun.

I set out to meet my fellow early riser friend for our regular Wednesday walk, and I shared with her as we pounded the streets and poured out our souls to each other, my ruminations inspired by the Halacha class the night before.

I kept an eye on the sky as we walked. We met in pitch black and stood for a moment in awe of the dark vastness and the sparkling stars.

We concluded our walk with the bluey haze of the sun slowly ascending,

And we recited the morning Shema together.